


Mixed Signals

by swrites



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dominant Hawke, Dry Humping, Frottage, M/M, submissive anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swrites/pseuds/swrites
Summary: Now, Anders wouldn't say that he was under the impression that Hawke liked him all that much. The man used sarcasm and humor as a response to everything, keeping the world at a distance with a razor sharp wit. And his resting expression was always a mixture of a slightly annoyed frown and a sardonic smirk. He was a very hard man to get to know, but Anders did put valiant effort into it. He did his damnedest to crack the chassis that Hawke had built around himself, tried to pry it open to get a glimpse of the warm heart he was certain was beating inside. For all the good it did him.





	Mixed Signals

Now, Anders wouldn't say that he was under the impression that Hawke liked him all that much. The man used sarcasm and humor as a response to everything, keeping the world at a distance with a razor sharp wit. And his resting expression was always a mixture of a slightly annoyed frown and a sardonic smirk. He was a very hard man to get to know, but Anders did put valiant effort into it. He did his damnedest to crack the chassis that Hawke had built around himself, tried to pry it open to get a glimpse of the warm heart he was certain was beating inside. For all the good it did him. 

He brought the rogue gifts from time to time, little trinkets that made him think of Hawke as they caught his eye. They were generally well received, but always with the standard wit. Never a genuine, unfiltered response. After a necklace had earned him a particularly long-winded joke, Anders briefly considered if this is what other people felt like when he went on another of his “mage's plight” tirades- that and he began to wonder who or what had hurt Hawke so badly that he couldn't be genuine in any situation. 

In any case, it came as a surprise to him when Hawke agreed to help on one of his missions for the rebellion. It was just the two of them, sneaking through hightown to smuggle supplies to some apostates holed up in an abandoned mansion. Each of the men had two satchels draped across their bodies, heavy with food and clothing. Anders was just about to round a corner when Hawke abruptly seized his wrist and dragged him into a dark alcove, pressing the shorter man's face against the marble, out of sight of the entourage of Templars that came around the corner just then. Anders had very nearly ran smack into them, and he was too shaken by this to immediately notice the rather..  _ tight _ predicament the two men currently found themselves in. 

The mage kept shifting his feet restlessly as the Templars inspected the shrubbery near them, his ears pounding as his heart hammered in his chest. Hawke's hands snapped up to his hips and the rogue's fingers dug in bruisingly, and Anders froze, finally absorbing the severity of the situation. The alcove was just  _ barely _ large enough for the both of them, with Hawke's hips pressed flush against Anders’ ass, the taller man's broad frame bracketing his back into the cold marble wall. 

“Anders, hold  _ still,  _ for the love of Andraste,” Hawke hissed into the mage's ear, and there was a slightly desperate edge to his voice that had Anders’ head spinning with the implications.

Anders gasped loudly in the still air and Hawke swiftly flipped him around and clasped a large hand over the blonde's mouth. 

“ _ Maker's balls, Anders, hold still and shut up, will you?”  _ Hawke hissed into Anders’ ear, the warmth of the man's breath sending a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the night air. Golden amber eyes pierced his own, pinning him into place in a way that he couldn't explain. The smirk was gone, replaced by an intense focus that Anders had never seen before. To his chagrin, the mage realized that his breathing was picking up, breathy exhales that did not go unnoticed by Hawke, who raised an eyebrow at him in bemusement.

The templars came closer, peering into the dark that surrounded them, and Hawke glanced at them and then around to look for an exit. Anders sagged into him, the removal of the heavy weight of Hawke's gaze leaving him light-headed. 

“W-who goes there?” A young templar called out in a shaky voice as he peered unseeingly past the pair in the darkness, and Anders stiffened in fear, hips tilting against Hawke’s as he willed his body to remain still. The taller man buried his face into the fuzz of Anders’ pauldron to hiss quietly, digging his nails into Anders’ hip with the hand that wasn't covering the man's mouth as his own hips bucked forward of their own volition. Anders swallowed audibly, his heart pounding in his chest even as the blood traveled southward.  _ Probably the worst possible time for this, thanks, _ Anders thought to his traitorous cock.

Just as the templars were about to step forward and discover them, a cat leapt out from a bush nearest to the tense pair, causing the youngest templar to jump back in alarm before laughing unsteadily.

“Just a bloody cat,” he said, relief evident in his voice as he dropped the hand that had been clenched around the hilt of his sword.

“Since when are you afraid of pussy, Cayden?” Another templar sneered, folding his arms over his chest as the group began to walk away. 

The danger passed, but Hawke's hands remained firmly where they were, eyes burning into Anders with an intensity that, quite frankly, made the mage’s knees weak, until well after the templars had slipped out of earshot and then out of sight.

Anders made no attempt to extricate himself from the predicament he found himself in, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was savoring what might be his only opportunity to feel Hawke so close, or if it was the weight of Hawke's gaze pinning him in place. Hawke finally removed his hand from Anders’mouth, but the one on his hip didn't move. The mage glanced down, then back up at Hawke in confusion. Those amber eyes were still burning with something dark that Anders was hesitant to name, for some reason.

“Um…”

The mage broke the silence at last, a single whispered word in an attempt to force the situation either forward or elsewhere. Hawke frowned, eyes roving over Anders’ face before settling on his lips, and the blonde exhaled shakily, lips parting on instinct as his tongue slipped out to wet them. Those eyes followed the movement, and Hawke cursed softly before leaning in, cupping Anders’ jaw to tilt the man's face up, and abruptly slotting their mouths together. 

Anders made a soft noise, melting into the kiss, and Hawke's grip grew firmer as his kiss grew bolder.  _ Maker _ , did that man know how to kiss. His tongue slipped into the mage's mouth with a practiced ease, sliding across his tongue in a way that had Anders moaning, rolling his hips into the friction that the solidly built man's frame had to offer. This elicited its own reaction from Hawke, who groaned deep in his throat and snapped his hips back against Anders’, rocking the hard press of their cocks together briefly. 

Anders couldn't quite believe this was happening. He didn't even think Hawke  _ liked _ him, much less liked him enough to snog him in the middle of a dark alley at three in the morning. His fingers shook as they tangled in Hawke's hair, tugging lightly in an attempt to make the man moan again. 

It worked.

Hawke growled into Anders’ mouth, grinding their hips together more forcefully, and Anders was helpless to do anything but hold on tightly in the wake of the storm that was Hawke. His skin felt like it was on fire, his vision clouded with lust, and he moaned a bit too loudly for the late hour as Hawke grabbed two firm handfuls of his ass and squeezed.

“ _ Hawke, _ ” Anders cried out softly, throwing his arms around Hawke's neck as the rogue hoisted him up and pinned him to the wall with his body, rocking their hips together more insistently. 

“Anders,  _ shut up, _ ” Hawke ground out, but there was no bite to it; a breathless reprimand administered while biting back a moan wasn't meant to be taken seriously. His breath was hot against Anders’ neck, and the mage tilted his head as Hawke pressed blazing kisses down the taut cord of muscle he found there before carefully sinking his teeth in.

“Maker,  _ yes _ ,” Anders moaned quietly, hips thrusting up into the friction sharply as Hawke sucked a deep bruise into the junction of his throat. “Harder, please, I'm-”

Hawke groaned as he processed the request, sinking his teeth in deeper and grinding against Anders more roughly. Their breath was coming in short harsh pants now, both of them nearing their end, and Anders bit his lip to stifle any moans trying to burst from his mouth. “Hawke,  _ please-” _

Hawke growled, thrusting harder and Anders clutched desperately at the man's tunic, his own hips rocking in time with the pace the rogue set. 

“Oh, Maker,  _ Anders,” _ Hawke groaned into the junction of Anders’ neck and he was done for. Anders cried out sharply, back snapping taut as he came,  _ hard. _ White spots danced around his vision as he dug his fingers into Hawke's hair, wave after wave of the orgasm hitting him with the force of a gale. “Fuck, Anders, that's it, sweet, just like that, fuck, I'm-”

Anders whined, begging in words he didn't even recognize coming out of his mouth, and Hawke crashed their lips together as the man's thrusts became staggered and uneven. Hawke groaned low and deep in his throat, grinding against him a handful more times as his breath punched out of him. He braced himself against the wall, holding Anders in place as they caught their breath. When they were both certain Anders could stand, he deposited the mage back on solid ground, backing out of the alcove with an almost sheepish look on his face.

“Well, that was… something,” Anders said lightly, still short of breath as he watched Hawke's face for a reaction. His face fell slightly when he saw the familiar sarcastic mask slip back into place, a playful, but also distant, grin tugging up kiss swollen lips.

“Yes, it certainly was at that. Shall we?” And without waiting for an answer, Hawke turned on his heel and traipsed off, leaving a confused Anders following in his wake.

Anders had suspicions, but honestly, he wasn't sure if that meant anything at all to the self appointed leader of their merry little gang. Hawke was just so hard to read, so it could have meant something. But it could have meant nothing. Anders frowned as he followed the man toward the safe house they were delivering to. 

Never let it be said that Anders gave up easily. It could have meant nothing, but he suspected enough that he was going to do his damnedest to find out. With resolve steeling his spine, Anders adjusted the strap of the satchel digging into his chest, and followed Hawke into the safe house and out of the cold night air. 


End file.
